The door flew open before she could even grasp the handle. Hastily concealing the glass vial within her sleeve, she watched Leon halt abruptly in the doorway.
“Where did you disappear to?”
“I just went for a walk to clear my head,” she replied, forcing lightness into her tone.
After making a show of glancing around casually, Veronica flung herself into his arms before he could press her further.
Leon appeared momentarily startled before enfolding her in an embrace so tight she felt completely enveloped in his warmth. Behind her, the door swung shut with a soft click. Without his breastplate, she could feel the solid contours of his body. She buried her face against his chest and inhaled deeply. His cool, masculine scent was mingled with sweat and the metallic tang of iron.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Memorizing your scent,” she murmured against him.
Leon seemed uncharacteristically flustered as her words vibrated against his chest.
“I haven’t even bathed,” he confessed. “We’re conserving water for drinking.”
“It doesn’t matter. I like it anyway,” she said, tilting her face up to him with eyes alight with affection.
His hand—which had been about to pull away—froze in mid-air.
How could I have been so blind before? This man trembles like an earthquake at my slightest word or gesture.
He gazed at her smile for a lingering moment, then tenderly brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Are you hungry?”
Thankfully, he seemed to have abandoned any intention of interrogating her about her whereabouts.
Veronica smiled sweetly and whispered, “A little. No, actually, I’m more parched than famished.”
In truth, she was neither hungry nor thirsty. She simply needed a way to pour the potion concealed within her sleeve. As anticipated, Leon immediately guided her deeper into the chamber.
“There’s a porridge of water-soaked oats,” he offered. “It won’t taste good, but you should eat something. You’ve hardly eaten anything since yesterday.”
The chamber, which had resembled the aftermath of a violent tempest, appeared to have been hastily tidied by Leon’s efforts. She seated herself at the side table with its fractured corner and observed the pale, unappetizing gruel. In truth, it barely qualified as porridge, having not been properly cooked over fire.
“Once we secure the provisions from the military stores, the situation will be much better,” he assured her. “So just endure it for today.”
“Yes, that’s fine. I won’t complain about the food. I’m not a child, after all.”
Leon’s lips curved into a fond smile at the way she emphasized the word “child.” He was probably recalling the days long past.
Veronica returned his smile before reluctantly lifting her spoon. As always, Leon consumed his meal with such haste that it seemed he was drinking rather than eating, while Veronica forced herself to swallow the bland mixture.
Having finished his meal early, he observed her eating as though she were the most precious and enchanting sight in all creation. Under his gaze, she felt like she was performing some extraordinary feat, rather than something mundane that every living creature had to do.
Her heart, which had remained hollow despite countless admiring gazes during her dancing performances, now overflowed from a single person’s devoted attention—like a pitifully thin crescent moon suddenly swelling to glorious fullness.
“Aren’t you going to drink that?” she asked, feigning embarrassment from his intense gaze and nodding toward the wine.
Leon followed her gaze and replied, “I don’t really feel like drinking it tonight.”
Veronica’s heart sank at this unexpected complication. It was too late to doctor his food, and now he refused the wine. Her plan teetered on the edge of failure.
“Then can I drink it?”
Leon arched an eyebrow at her unexpected request. “You’ve never had a taste for it before,” he reminded her.
“That’s why I want to try it tonight,” she explained, moistening her lips deliberately. “I’m still thirsty even after drinking the water.”
As she deliberately ran her tongue across her lips, Leon’s gaze fixed intently on the fleeting glimpse of pink. True to the old saying that spoken words manifest reality, her mouth and throat suddenly felt as dry as desert sand. Leon tilted his head slightly, and she couldn’t discern whether suspicion or curiosity motivated his scrutiny.
“Just a sip,” he cautioned. “If you don’t like it, just spit it out immediately.”
Finally, Leon straightened from his reclined position and reached for the wine bottle.
As he poured the deep purple liquid into a goblet, Veronica released the breath she’d been holding.
What am I going to do now?
She knew the potion must find its way into his wine, but she didn’t know how she’d manage it. How could she execute such deception while under his watchful eye?
While lost in thought, the wine—appearing almost like a deadly poison in the dim light—was already being offered to her. After a moment’s hesitation, she accepted it and sipped cautiously. It was bitter at first taste but finished with unexpected sweetness. Leon rested his chin on the armrest of his chair, his eyes never leaving her face.
“…It’s surprisingly good,” she remarked, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Can I get another?”
Inwardly, she felt like weeping at the cruel twist of fate. What if I end up just getting drunk?
When she boldly extended her empty glass, Leon’s eyes widened momentarily before he burst into warm laughter.
“Don’t overindulge,” he warned as he refilled her glass with a measured pour.
Just as she reluctantly brought the second glass to her lips, salvation arrived in the form of a knock at the door. Leon glanced up briefly before rising to answer it, and Veronica seized the precious opportunity to withdraw the glass vial from her sleeve with trembling fingers.
Two drops fell silently into the wine. She quickly sealed the vial and concealed it once more. Now all that remained was to ensure Leon drank the enchanted wine, and her deception would be complete.
“Something seems off.”
Veronica froze at the voice from behind her, her fingers still hovering over Leon’s drink.
Did he see? Am I caught? What excuse can I make?
“Wittelsbach sent some wine.”
While her heart hammered with anxiety, Leon placed a new bottle on the side table. Veronica screamed internally, panic rising in her throat.
He sent me a bottle of drugged wine? Couldn’t he have given me a warning so we could coordinate?
“That’s… wonderful!” she chirped with false brightness. “I’ll have the new one instead.”
As she reached out with gritted teeth, Leon furrowed his brows, suspicion darkening his gaze.
“You’re going to drink another whole bottle by yourself?”
It did look suspicious, even to her.
He stood beside her and placed his hand against her flushed cheek. The icy sensation of his touch made Veronica instinctively shrink away, her neck retreating like a turtle into its shell.
“Your hands are like ice.”
“No, it’s your face that’s burning after just one glass.”
“That’s not it!” she protested.
“Then what?”
“Well…” Veronica hesitated, then seized upon an excuse. “I also blush when someone I care for is close to me.”
She bit her lip hard, genuinely embarrassed by her own words. Feeling heat creep up her neck to her cheeks, she lowered her gaze and heard his husky mutter, “You’re driving me mad.”
His hand, which covered half her face, felt deliciously cool against her burning skin.
“Why are you being so adorable today?”
“If I’m adorable, will you drink with me?” she asked, seizing the opportunity and immediately offering him the drugged wine. “I only wanted to drink it in the first place because you like it so much, and I like you, so I want to like what you like.”
She knew she was rambling, but this time Leon didn’t refuse. He let out a low chuckle that sent shivers down her spine, then removed his hand from her face to take the glass. Perhaps she’d managed to confuse him with her overuse of the word “like.”
Leon drained the glass in one fluid motion while looking directly into her eyes. Veronica watched with bated breath as the glass left his lips and his Adam’s apple bobbed rhythmically.
He drank it. I did it.